The Moss Identity
by Bliss Jones
Summary: Crossover with Alias. "I'm being chased by men with guns who think I'm a spy." Donna finds herself trapped in a world of espionage.
1. Copenhagen

Disclaimer: The West Wing belongs to Aaron Sorkin, John Wells Productions, and Warner Bros. Alias belongs to J.J. Abrams, Bad Robot, and Touchstone. I doubt either Aaron or J.J. ever thought to cross their shows; I, on the other hand, have. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
Spoilers: Nothing specific for either show, except the first season WW episode "Six Meeting Before Lunch." For timeline purposes, this is set somewhere in the later half of WW's fourth season and before the events of "Phase One" (the post-Super Bowl episode) in Alias' second season.  
  
Author's Note: The inspiration for this comes from Carl Lumbly who co-stars on Alias as Marcus Dixon and who also once guest-starred as Jeff Breckenridge on The West Wing. So in this story, I'm playing with the idea that when Josh met with Jeff Breckenridge in "Six Meetings Before Lunch," he was actually meeting with Marcus Dixon posing as Jeff Breckenridge.   
  
Many thanks go to the incredible beta work of Classic She and Jane. They both rock!  
  
THE MOSS IDENTITY  
  
***  
  
Chapter 1  
  
***  
  
Copenhagen  
  
Friday, 10:47 PM GMT  
  
The security guard wouldn't come down the hallway for another twelve minutes. She had just enough time to break into the lab and download the right files before she would have to climb back through the air vent in the janitor's closet she came through. She had to laugh, silently, of course, at the overall lack of security at the Astronomical Observatory, considering the kind of scientific equipment within its walls. She didn't really care about the gamma ray research she was sent there to retrieve; if it meant the CIA could take down SD-6 sooner - any sooner - she would do it.   
  
With the final digit of the code entered on the small keypad, the lab's electronic door slid open. Sydney Bristow, CIA double agent and reluctant member of SD-6, lowered her head to speak into her hidden communicator. "Dixon, I'm in."  
  
***  
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Friday, 11:58 PM EST  
  
"Senator Hale, I can't promise you that. You have to understand the enormity of what you're asking. It's not in the President's power."  
  
Josh Lyman paced behind his desk, rubbing his exhausted eyes with one hand while cradling the phone in the crook of his shoulder with the other. He barely acknowledged his assistant, Donna Moss, as she came through the doorway carrying a cardboard box overflowing with binders and scraps of paper. Dropping the box loudly on the desk, which made Josh jump, Donna exited the room.  
  
"I understand that, sir," Josh said into the phone. "The majority leader has vowed...I know, but it's not like...we don't want to see that happen. I can assure you that as the Deputy Chief of Staff, I don't want to see that happen either. " He paused and remained motionless as Donna entered again, this time with a stack of files. She pulled out the contents of the top folder as Josh continued his conversation.   
  
"Thank you, Senator. The President looks forward to seeing you on Monday," Josh concluded the call and set the receiver back in its cradle.  
  
"He's coming?" Donna asked.  
  
"He's coming. What's this stuff?" he inquired, eying the open box and folders on his desk.   
  
"That's the info you wanted me to get."  
  
"I asked for that like an hour ago."  
  
"I had to go over to the OEOB, Josh. I don't keep these kind of files by my desk."  
  
"Maybe you should," he muttered angrily under his breath, knowing full well Donna would be able to hear him. He braced himself for the fight he knew he deserved, keeping Donna in the office past midnight for the last six days.   
  
Instead, he was met with a resigned, "Is there anything else, or can I go home?"  
  
Josh exhaled loudly. "Yeah, go home," he said, shuffling some papers in a vain attempt to appear busy. "I need you back here at seven tomorrow."  
  
"Josh!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Tomorrow's Saturday."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, I haven't slept in the last six days."  
  
"Fine. Come in at eight."  
  
"Good night, Joshua." She was out of his office and logged off her computer before he could respond. She was already in the lobby by the time he checked the mailboxes as a stupid excuse to watch her leave.  
  
"I'll apologize tomorrow with breakfast," Josh said out loud to himself. Noticing the light still on in C.J.'s office, he walked across the bullpen.   
  
C.J., without looking up from the early edition of the Washington Post open before her, asked, "Was that Donna I just saw leaving in a hurry?"  
  
"Yeah," Josh replied, digging his hands deep into his pockets and collapsing on the couch, not wanting to say more.  
  
"Listen, I'm glad you came by," she said as she leafed back two pages and joined Josh on the couch. "I know you barely knew the guy, what with the confirmation hearings falling through, but..." She paused before continuing. "Jeff Breckenridge had a heart attack. He died."  
  
Josh stared down at the obituary and accompanying photo.  
  
"That's not Jeff Breckenridge."  
  
***  
  
Copenhagen  
  
Saturday, 6:10 AM GMT  
  
Sydney settled into her window seat with a quiet sigh and stared out at the first signs of light across the tarmac. Any seat would have felt good to her at this point; after tripping up the alarm system at the Observatory, she was forced to run through miles of underground sewer tunnels with security guards fast on her trail. The intel SD-6 had provided outlining the schematics for the lab had failed to include a key element: a second code needed to leave the room. It was hours before she managed to catch up to her partner, Marcus Dixon, who had quickly moved their tech van out of position when he heard the alarm sound.   
  
He was on another flight now, making a stopover in Cairo first before following her home to Los Angeles. The original plan called for both of them to meet up with Dixon's contact, an underground arms dealer, but a recent explosion in a local marketplace had spooked the source into hiding. He refused to speak with anyone other than Dixon.   
  
So Sydney would be able to return to LA two and a half days early, a welcome relief to her jet lag. She pulled the small shade on the oval window down, but before she could close her eyes, a flight attendant appeared and asked her to keep the shade open until the plane had reached its flying altitude.  
  
Even though she understood every word the flight attendant said, Sydney had to match the passport in her purse and the identity that came with it. In a perfect accent she replied, "Scusi. Non capisco."  
  
***  
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Saturday, 12:47 AM EST  
  
"Anna, I'm home," Donna called out, closing the door to her apartment behind her. "Finally," she added. She tucked her keys back in her purse and let the bag fall to the ground before falling onto the couch herself in an exhausted heap.  
  
With just enough energy to lift her head up, Donna called out again, "Anna?" It took all the effort she could muster to sit up and notice the yellow post-it taped up to the television, the usual place her roommate left messages for her.  
  
She peeled off the paper and smiled despite her pounding headache. "Out with Ned. Said he was sorry. Don't wait up (like you ever do). Hope that stupid boss of yours let you leave at a humane hour. Anna."  
  
"Well, at least one of us is having fun tonight," Donna sighed out loud. Her momentary flash of self-pity vanished when she heard the hungry purrs of Lincoln and Booth, Anna's four-year-old tabby cats. "Don't tell me Anna didn't feed you two." Lincoln wrapping herself around Donna's legs was a good enough answer.  
  
"Okay, okay, I hear ya," Donna said as she headed to the kitchen. Booth pounced onto the countertop while Lincoln sat on the linoleum patiently waiting. Donna struggled to reach the can of cat food in the back of the cabinet.   
  
A heavy pounding on the door caused her to jump, and as she slammed the tin can on the counter, she muttered loudly, "Josh Lyman, I swear to God if I find you on the other side of this door!"   
  
With one hand on the door lock, she peered through the peephole. Despite her building's poorly lit hallway, she could distinctly make out three men wearing dark suits. She didn't recognize them as Secret Service.  
  
"Donnatella Moss!"  
  
The sound of her name sent her mind racing through a startling string of what ifs. What if Josh was hurt? What if there had been another assassination attempt? What if something happened to Anna? The tone of the man's voice, however, insistent and aggressive, kept Donna frozen on the spot.   
  
"Federal agents, Miss Moss! Please open the door."   
  
Donna's hand automatically moved to latch the chain to the doorframe. She opened the door a few inches.   
  
"Yes," she managed to say. "Is something wrong?" She prayed her voice didn't shake too much as she spoke.  
  
"We can't discuss it in the hallway. Open the door, Miss Moss."  
  
"Can I see some identification please?" She swallowed hard, trying to regain her composure with each word.  
  
"Of course," the lead man replied with a smirk that made Donna nervous. He reached into his breast pocket, but instead of pulling out his badge, he brandished a semiautomatic handgun from its holster. The man on the right kicked the door in with such force the chain lock detached completely from its base. Donna let out a short scream, too terrified to do more, and fell back. The three men surrounded her in another instant.   
  
  
  
"Donnatella Moss, you are under arrest by order of the federal government in connection with the theft and possible sale of classified documents to enemies of the United States."  
  
"What?" Donna was barely able to get the word out before she felt warm steel clasp around her wrists. Any attempt she made to resist was met with tighter grips from the two men flanking her on each side.   
  
"Wait! Please. I-I don't understand. I haven't done anything. Please. You have to listen to me!" Donna struggled and pleaded with every syllable, trying to twist her arms to escape. All three men remained silent. "Why are you arresting me? Who are you with? Please. I didn't do anything! I work at the White House."   
  
As they ushered her out of the apartment, the phone began to ring, but Donna's cries drowned out the continuing sound. The lead man made a slight survey of the room and closed the door in one swift motion, leaving the hanging chain lock swinging from the force. The only sound that remained was that of the telephone.  
  
Ring.  
  
Ring.  
  
Ring.  
  
Click.   
  
"Hi. You've reached Anna and Donna. If you're looking for Anna, please leave a message. If you want to talk to Donna, try the office."   
  
Beeeep.  
  
"Donna, I know you're there. Pick up. Pick up, Donna! Okay, fine. Don't pick up. I know I said come in at eight tomorrow, but something's happened. I need you here at seven. There's a thing with Jeff Breckenridge...I can't find his file. I need you to pull up some info for me. So, I guess I'll see you at seven...um, sleep well."  
  
o   
  
  
  
***  
  
tbc... 


	2. Washington, DC

Chapter 2  
  
***  
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Saturday, 6:52 AM EST  
  
Josh swaggered into the West Wing's lobby, swiping his keycard at the door with one hand and maneuvering the coffee and bagels he carried in the other as he punched in the necessary security code. He walked through the bullpen and into his office, turning on the lights as he went through. Just as he was about to set the coffee and bagels down on his desk, he realized something was wrong. The bullpen was quiet. And empty.  
  
Donna wasn't there.  
  
"Donna!" he screamed, turning on his heels and stepping into Donna's cubicle in the bullpen. "For crying out loud! Where are you?"  
  
He continued mumbling as he threw off his coat and headed to the other side of the building. "She knows damn well...she is so dead."  
  
"Who's dead?" Sam asked, joining Josh in the lobby.  
  
"What are you doing here so early?"  
  
"I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk. Nothing like a brisk walk in the morning to get the creative juices flowing."  
  
"Writer's block?"   
  
"I don't want to talk about it," Sam replied quickly. "Who's dead?"  
  
"Who do you think?"  
  
"Donna? What'd she do?"  
  
"She's not here!"   
  
"Josh. It's Saturday. Plus, most of Congress is away for the break."  
  
"I know. But I called her last night, or really, early this morning telling her to come in today."  
  
"It's not even seven o'clock yet," Sam said, glancing at his watch.  
  
"Yeah, but I told her seven, which in Donna-time translates to 6:45 if not earlier."   
  
"She's never late?" Sam asked, skeptically.  
  
"Since she started working for me during the campaign, Donna has been late a total of two times. So believe me when I tell you Donnatella Moss does not know the meaning of being late."  
  
"Give her time, Josh. Maybe there was traffic," Sam offered. "I really should get started."  
  
"'Kay. It's just-I'm here; Donna should be, too. I need her to, you know, look up stuff for me."  
  
Sam smiled. "Don't worry. She'll be here."   
  
"Yeah," Josh sighed. She better be, he thought.  
  
***  
  
Sterling, Virginia  
  
Saturday, 7:16 AM EST  
  
Sydney Bristow strode past customs with her small suitcase in tow and exited into the main terminal of Dulles International Airport, checking the boards in the process to see how much time she had to make her connecting flight. She barely noticed the string of chauffeurs and other drivers holding up name signs, on either side of the rope line, until one name in particular caught her attention.   
  
"I'm Danielle Ford," she said, recognizing one of the established CIA emergency go-to names and growing tense at the same moment. She wasn't expected to make contact with the CIA until she returned to LA.   
  
"Was Milan cold for this time of year?" the junior agent inquired.  
  
"Not any warmer than Naples," Sydney replied, completing the confirmation of her identity.  
  
"Right this way, Miss Ford." The agent gestured to the door and led Sydney outside to a large black town car waiting at the curb. She made one, quick glance back into the terminal before getting into the car.  
  
"Good flight?" came the voice from behind the wheel.  
  
Sydney instantly relaxed but waited until the door was closed to speak. "Vaughn? What are you doing here?" she asked, addressing her CIA handler, Michael Vaughn.  
  
"We've got a problem," he said, pulling into traffic. "I'll tell you when we get there."  
  
"I guess I'm not making my next flight."  
  
***  
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Saturday, 8:08 AM EST  
  
Josh sat at his desk concentrating, or at least he hoped he looked like he was concentrating. Despite the latest budget breakdown spread out in front of him, he was having trouble focusing. He kept switching from incessantly checking the time on his watch to dialing the same number over and over again before slamming the phone down in frustration. His head jerked up when he heard a soft knock on the open door.   
  
"Well, it's about damn time-- " Josh stopped short. "C.J.?" He swallowed back his surprise.  
  
"And a good morning to you, Joshua," C.J. replied.  
  
"Sorry about that," he said, standing. "I-I didn't realize it was, uh, you."  
  
"And there's someone in this building who deserves to be addressed in the way you were just about to?" C.J. folded her arms and peered at Josh in a manner that he was all too familiar with.   
  
"C'mon, C.J.. I didn't...Please don't...I just..." Josh stammered.  
  
"Wanna finish a sentence there, mi compadre?"   
  
"Donna's not here yet," was all Josh managed to say.  
  
"It's Saturday."  
  
"I know," Josh whined. "But-how many times do I have to repeat myself?"  
  
"You work her too hard. You know that, right? You don't see Carol here first thing on a Saturday morning, do you?"  
  
"Uh, C.J.?" Josh said, nodding toward the doorway.  
  
C.J. sighed. "Carol's standing right there, isn't she?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"Morning," Carol cheerfully responded from her position in the bullpen. "Here's everything I could find on Jeff Breckenridge."   
  
"Jeff Breckenridge?" Josh perked up. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah. Thanks, Carol," C.J. called behind her as Carol walked away. "Well, let's check out your mystery man."  
  
Josh began to leaf through the folder. "Graduated in the top five of his class at Fisk University, interned at Debevoise & Plimpton...he told me that." Josh's voice trailed off.  
  
"Made partner," C.J. continued, "at Samson, Lewis, and Wood in '85. Left to join the Southern Poverty Law Center in '89. This is everything we knew about him before."  
  
"Hey, is there a picture in there?"  
  
"Just the one that ran in the paper. It was taken in the spring of 2000."  
  
"That's right around the time I met with him about the Assistant Attorney General position. Do you honestly not remember seeing him, C.J.? I was in with him all morning, and then we left for lunch."  
  
"Josh, that was like three years ago. I honestly couldn't tell you what I had for breakfast this morning."  
  
"I don't get this," Josh moaned, running his hand through his hair. "If that's Jeff Breckenridge," he said indicating the photo, "then who the hell did I meet with?"  
  
"Can't help you there. Who did see you with him?"  
  
"Donna. A couple of staffers. I don't know. She-Donna brought him in from the lobby. She saw us leave for lunch. She made me bring her back a fruit smoothie."  
  
"You remember all that?" C.J. asked, lowering her glasses.  
  
"Yeah," he replied innocently. "It was during her health food kick." He paused for a moment, thinking back. "She's probably the only other person here who's gonna remember the guy."  
  
"Well, I guess you'll just have to wait until she gets here."  
  
"Yeah, whenever that is." Josh surveyed the stacks of paper piled on his desk. He had work he should be doing, the least of which was obsessing over why Donna wasn't in the office.   
  
"Come get me if you find out anything," C.J. said. "I'll be in my office."  
  
"Okay. Thanks, C.J.," Josh sighed. He reached for his phone to dial the number for the twenty-ninth time. With each dull ring, Josh's frustration turned into concern.  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
  
  
***  
  
Undisclosed Location  
  
Saturday, time unknown  
  
Donna awoke with a sudden jerk. For the briefest moment, she thought she was falling. She had a vague recollection that she'd been dreaming. Slightly disoriented, she forced her eyes to stay open. Damp stone walls surrounded her on four sides, and a small casement window let the only bit of sunlight in behind her. She attempted to sit up but found herself chained to a military-style cot she was laying on.   
  
She slowly lifted her free hand to her face, hoping to wipe away whatever nightmare she was experiencing. She would be back in her bed in her apartment waiting to groan at her alarm clock for waking her after the week she had just been through. Instead, as her fingers met her forehead, she touched what unexpectedly felt like dried blood and a dull pain above her left eye.  
  
Then Donna remembered the men with the guns. And the handcuffs and the back of a van. Everything after that was fuzzy. In the distance, she could hear the heavy slam of steel doors.  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
o  
  
***  
  
tbc... 


	3. Washington, DC

***  
  
Chapter 3  
  
***  
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Saturday, 9:49 AM EST  
  
Josh poked his head into Sam's office. Sam, who was busy typing, didn't seem to notice him hanging off the doorjamb. Josh decided he was too impatient to wait much longer.  
  
"Sam!"  
  
Josh stifled his laughter as Sam jumped from his seat and immediately lowered his laptop screen.   
  
"Yes," Sam replied with forced calmness. "Can I help you?"  
  
"Yeah, I just...I'm gonna...I wanted to let you know I'm going over there."  
  
"Going where?"  
  
"Over to Donna's."   
  
Sam leaned back in his chair. "If she hasn't been answering her phone, what makes you think she'll answer the door? That is, of course, if she's even actually home, which I highly doubt."  
  
"You don't think she's home?"  
  
"It's not out the realm of possibility, Josh. I mean, you said so yourself, it's not like her to be late."  
  
"Then where the hell is she?"  
  
"You want me to go with you?" Sam asked with a grin.  
  
"Kinda, yeah," Josh responded sheepishly.  
  
"Just let me finish this paragraph."  
  
"'Kay," Josh said, slamming his hand against the doorpost.   
  
***  
  
Fredericksburg, Virginia  
  
Saturday, 10:07 AM EST  
  
Vaughn pulled the town car into the nearly deserted parking lot behind a rental car agency and quickly joined Sydney in the backseat.  
  
"The outfit suits you," Sydney nodded with a smile to Vaughn's chauffeur's cap and jacket. She could have sworn she saw him blush.  
  
"It's not an outfit; it's a uniform," he replied in mock defense.   
  
"I still don't know how you figured out I was on that plane."   
  
"I recognized your alias on the flight manifest."   
  
"But I wasn't supposed to come back until Monday. How did you --"  
  
"Syd," Vaughn began, his tone suddenly serious, "there's something you should know."   
  
"Vaughn?"   
  
"Does the name Jeff Breckenridge mean anything to you?"  
  
"Breckenridge?" Sydney paused for a moment remembering. "Yeah, three years ago, before I knew the truth about SD-6, Sloane sent Dixon to pose as Jeff Breckenridge while I...while I..."  
  
"...Broke into the White House. I know." Vaughn was silent for a moment.  
  
"Well, I wouldn't call it breaking in. I mean, they did let us through the front gate. I just hacked into their server."  
  
"This morning I intercepted a memo that was on its way to Kendall --"   
  
"What were you doing reading the Assistant Director's memos?" Sydney interrupted.   
  
"It's better if you don't ask me how or why. The memo said that the FBI was finalizing plans to make an arrest in the case."  
  
"Case? What case?"  
  
"Up until yesterday it was classified as 'status pending.' They knew what had been stolen, but they didn't have any suspects. The agents heading up the investigation shouldn't even be aware that you were involved in any way."  
  
"You guys didn't tell the FBI I broke into the White House?" Sydney questioned.  
  
"Hey, the CIA is not in the habit of sharing. Your file is still on a need-to-know basis. We can't let everyone know about your existence. Only the most senior agents in the FBI know about you, and even then we haven't released everything."  
  
"Well, can't we just tell the FBI it was me and be done with it?" Sydney suggested.  
  
"It's not that simple. For the moment, all the FBI is concerned with is making the arrest. It's been over three years of embarrassment for the Bureau among the other agencies and they're out for blood. They want this case to serve as an warning."   
  
"But it's not like I did it on purpose. I was only following orders."  
  
"Right now, none of that matters," Vaughn pleaded. "If the FBI finds you, they will hold you indefinitely."  
  
"We've been through this before. What about my cover at SD-6?"  
  
Vaughn exhaled deeply. "Forget about SD-6. Syd, listen to me, you have to go into hiding."  
  
***  
  
Washington, D.C.   
  
Saturday, 10:18 AM EST  
  
Josh bounded up the steps to Donna's building and instantly began hitting the buzzer labeled 2B.   
  
"What did I tell you?" Sam called from his position by the car after Josh's incessant button pushing came to no avail.  
  
"I think the buzzer's broken. There's usually a note," Josh said as he came down two steps to get a better view into Donna's windows.  
  
"What about her roommate?" Sam asked as he joined Josh on the stoop.  
  
"She goes on a lot of business trips. I've only actually met her a couple of times." Josh resumed his post at the buzzer but stopped once the front door opened partway. A small elderly woman tightly gripping a broom handle imposed herself in the open space.  
  
"Go away now or I'll call the police!" she cried, her grasp on the broom more determined.   
  
"Mrs. Dabruski, it's me, Josh Lyman. Donna's boss. Donna Moss, your tenant in 2B." Josh hoped pointing to the second floor would somehow reinforce his claim to his identity.   
  
Mrs. Dabruski kept one hand around the broom but raised the other to point at Josh. "You! You're the crazy boss of hers. You make her work all hours of the night. She come home sometimes one, sometimes two in the morning. I never get any sleep with her in the building! Always coming and going. She woke me up last night, just like all other nights."  
  
Josh breathed a silent sigh of relief. She had come home then. "I'm sure Donna doesn't mean to wake you."   
  
The Russian woman narrowed her eyes. "She tell me it's your fault I get woken up all the time."   
  
Josh traded looks with Sam before speaking. "And for that I sincerely apologize. Would it be at all possible for you to let us in? I haven't been able to get in touch with Donna, and I'm afraid there might be something wrong with her phone."  
  
"You promise not to keep her so late in future?" Mrs. Dabruski proposed.  
  
Josh was about to explain the enormous importance of his line of work and how unpredictable the hours were at times before Sam cut in. "He promises."  
  
Two minutes later, Mrs. Dabruski found the correct key and opened the door to 2B for Josh and Sam. Josh was through the door and into the living room in a second. "Donna!"   
  
Sam, meanwhile, surveyed the kitchen, noticing a can of cat food left unopened on the counter. The cats were nowhere to be seen. Josh reentered the main room after having checked both bedrooms. He walked over to where Sam was crouched near the door.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"It's Donna's purse," Sam said plainly, handing it to Josh. "And..." his voice trailed off as he fingered the broken chain lock hanging off the doorpost.  
  
"Such a nice girl, even if she wakes me up so much," Mrs. Dabruski mused. "That's why I don't understand why they come for her."   
  
"Come for her?" Josh repeated.  
  
"Those men last night. I see them all day Friday sitting in van across street. I tell them they can't stay there. They tell me go away, it's none of my business. But I watch them. And then Donna come home, waking me up again, and I hear them pounding up the stairs. And then they come down again, but this time they have Donna with them."  
  
"Who were they?" Sam asked, seeing the look of devastation cross Josh's eyes.  
  
"I don't know. They had guns. I come out my door to yell, but they push me back inside and say it's government matter," she concluded.  
  
At the word 'guns' Josh collapsed on the couch, burying his face with his hands.   
  
"Mrs. Dabruski, ma'am," Sam's voice was barely audible at first, "do you know anything else about the men who took Donna? A description, a license plate, anything?"  
  
"Of course," the old lady replied proudly. "I remember how KGB operate. In old country, you go to jail just for saying you saw something. But I am American now. Here I know my rights." She reached into the pocket of her dress apron and pulled out a slip of paper. "I copy down license plate number."  
  
"Thank you," Sam said, taking the paper from her. Looking over at Josh, he couldn't help but add, "We'll find her, Josh."  
  
Josh barely heard him. He just sat on the couch staring at Donna's purse on the coffee table in front of him.   
  
***  
  
Fredericksburg, Virginia  
  
Saturday, 10:20 AM EST  
  
"You cannot be serious!" Sydney shouted, though Vaughn was sitting less than two feet away from her.  
  
"This is not up for negotiation, Syd. I've been ordered to take you to a safe house."  
  
"Ordered by who?" The anger was apparent in her voice, but one look from Vaughn gave her an answer. "My father? Here's the one who got a hold of that memo, isn't he?"  
  
"I would have gotten on a plane to come here even if he hadn't asked me to."  
  
"I am so tired of my father trying to control my life. After years of enduring his seemingly indifference toward me --" She was about to continue when Vaughn's cell phone interrupted her. She waited impatiently for the conversation to be over. She didn't have to guess as to whom he was talking to.  
  
"That was your father," Vaughn said as he returned the phone to his pocket.  
  
"Really?" Sydney replied sarcastically. She was in no mood to be handled, by either one of them.   
  
"There's been a development. It seems that someone may have already been arrested."   
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Your father's not sure. At the moment the FBI isn't admitting to it, but there have been reports that someone was picked up last night."  
  
"Where are the reports coming from?"  
  
"Free lance agents, foreign assets who owe favors to your father. The information can't be corroborated until the Bureau confirms it, and right now they're not talking."  
  
"Did my dad have a name, anything, to tell us who this person might be?"  
  
"Yeah, a woman named Donna Moss."  
  
Sydney felt the air being sucked out of her lungs.  
  
"What?" Vaughn asked, reading Sydney's face. "You know her?"  
  
"Not exactly. She-she..." Sydney had trouble finding the words. "Before I knew the truth about SD-6, before I knew that it wasn't a part of the CIA, Dixon and I went to the White House, and I posed as his associate. While Dixon was in talking to the Deputy Chief of Staff, I was supposed to access a secure server in one of the auxiliary offices and download a list of federal employees the Secret Service had initially tagged as possible security risks. Sloane had told us that enemies of the United States were beginning a campaign to recruit those named on the list. We were supposed to get to it before they did in order to save the country. I thought I was being patriotic."  
  
"And where does this Moss woman fit in to all of this?"  
  
"The plan was for me to distract the Deputy Chief of Staff's assistant long enough to steal her keycard. The mission was low-tech enough that all I needed was the card, but it being the White House the protection level surrounding the server was higher than usual. The card could only come from inside.   
  
"Vaughn," Sydney said, her eyes slowly filling with tears, "Donna Moss was the assistant. I stole her keycard. She was arrested because of me."   
  
***  
  
Undisclosed Location  
  
Saturday, time unknown  
  
Donna stared at the tiled ceiling above her. There was little else in the room to occupy her thoughts. She had already replayed the events of the previous night over and over in her head, or at least the parts she remembered. What was it they had accused her of? Stealing government files? How could they think she could do something like that? She had never even gotten so much as a speeding ticket. Hell, she never had to pay an overdue fee on her library books. What was she doing in this cell?  
  
She wondered if Josh had been told yet. She wondered what he must think of her. Hopefully, he would know she didn't do it. But what if he didn't even notice she was gone.   
  
She jumped when she heard footsteps coming nearer to her cell. Then she heard steel gliding past steel as the viewing window in the door slid open. Then it was the jangling of a key into the keyhole.  
  
Donna wished she remembered more from that self-defense class she had taken with Ginger and Bonnie a while back. The thing was, though, you weren't supposed to fight back when it was the United States government.  
  
o  
  
***  
  
tbc... 


	4. Washington, DC

***  
  
Chapter 4  
  
***  
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Saturday, 2:54 PM EST  
  
"Will you sit down already?" Sam nagged as he watched Josh pace in front of him for the sixteenth time. "You're making me nervous." Sam glanced around the almost empty reception area. The lack of people in the J. Edgar Hoover Building wasn't surprising for a Saturday afternoon.   
  
"I'm already nervous," Josh replied. He couldn't stay in one spot for too long. If he didn't keep moving, he would have to think about where Donna might be. And if he thought about that too long, it might drive him insane. "This doesn't make any sense," he said, finally taking a seat next to Sam.  
  
"I know. Why would anyone take Donna?"  
  
Josh just sighed. He couldn't bring himself to say what he was thinking.  
  
"You know this has nothing to do with you, right?" Sam tried to sound reassuring, but it did nothing to comfort Josh.   
  
"Josh. Sam. Sorry to make you wait," Special Agent Mike Casper called as he walked in from the hallway.  
  
"That's okay, Mike. Thanks so much for making the time to see us," Josh said, taking the FBI agent's outstretched hand.   
  
"Come on back to my office. I haven't been over at the White House lately, but I guess that's a good thing," Agent Casper said as he led the way down the corridor.   
  
"Listen, Mike, there's a reason we came by," Josh began.  
  
"Gee, and I thought this was just a social visit," Casper replied dryly, offering them seats once they reached his office.  
  
"Donna's missing." Josh didn't wait for a reaction. "I called her last night and got her machine, and this morning she never came into work. We went by her apartment and her landlady told us she saw armed men leading Donna into a van. We've already been to the police station - several, in fact - and they had no reports of anyone matching Donna's description coming in since last night. So now I'm coming to you." Josh was surprised how calm his voice sounded.  
  
"Josh," Casper said, throwing up his hands, "what do you expect me to do?"  
  
"You can start by showing some concern. This is Donna we're talking about."  
  
"I'm aware of that, but I'm unsure of my footing here. Are you saying that you believe Donna was arrested?"  
  
"We're not sure what we believe right now," Sam answered. "We're just trying to make sense of this whole thing. We have a license plate number if that helps."   
  
Casper shrugged. "Again, I really don't know what you --"   
  
"You're the FBI, dammit. Investigate!" Josh exclaimed. It took him a few seconds before he even realized he was shouting. Agent Casper's ringing phone spared them from having to continue their conversation just at that moment.   
  
As Casper took the call, Sam leaned over to the other chair, "Josh..."  
  
"I know," he nodded slowly. He hadn't meant to yell. After all, this was an old friend. Josh quickly turned his attention back to Casper behind the desk, observing how the agent's face had turned noticeably grim as he hung up the receiver.   
  
His tone was more serious as well. "Guys, I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut this short."  
  
"Mike, if my behavior just then...it's just, you know, with everything...look, I'm sorry."   
  
.   
  
Standing and gesturing them toward the door, Agent Casper appeared more professional than Josh had ever seen him in all the instances he had previously acted as the FBI's White House Liaison. "Don't apologize. I understand." He looked like he wanted to say more but didn't.  
  
Josh hung his head as he left. This wasn't the way he had wanted the meeting to end. He wasn't sure what he had expected to happen, but he was sure it wasn't this.  
  
Sam waited till they were both in the hallway before speaking. "What do we do now?"  
  
"Now," Josh said, exhaling deeply, "now we wait."  
  
***  
  
Fredericksburg, Virginia  
  
Saturday, 4:10 PM EST  
  
"I can't take this waiting," Sydney said softly as she peered through the blinds of the back office of the rental car agency that acted as a CIA front.  
  
"I know this is frustrating, Syd," Vaughn agreed, "but there's not a lot we can do."   
  
"Why not? Why can't we do something?"  
  
From Vaughn's tone Sydney could tell that he knew what she was about to say. "What are you suggesting?"   
  
"It's not like we've never done this before. Look, Vaughn, I want to help this woman. It's my fault she's been sucked into this mess in the first place."  
  
"I understand that, but there's protocol to follow. We can tell the FBI it was you once we know that you're safe on the other side of the world."  
  
"I'm tired of running," Sydney said. "If the FBI wants to hold me then fine, so be it."  
  
"What about SD-6? You can't bring them down if you're stuck behind bars serving twenty years to life for treason."  
  
"I can't let her take the fall for me. I can't let this person I've only met once have her life destroyed because of me. Imagine if I went missing one night. Can you even begin to fathom what you'd be going through to try and find me?" Sydney stopped herself before she said too much. She became very aware at how red her cheeks were growing.   
  
Vaughn shifting slightly in his seat interrupted the silence between them. He slowly raised his head to meet her eyes. "Where do we start?"  
  
***   
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Saturday, 6:18 PM EST  
  
Josh quietly turned his key into the door of his apartment with Sam close behind. Neither had said anything since leaving the J. Edgar Hoover Building. Sam didn't know what to say, and Josh couldn't bring himself to say anything.  
  
"You got any beer?" Sam asked, hoping something-anything could lighten the decidedly dark mood that now followed them.  
  
"In the fridge," Josh nodded toward the kitchen before loosening his tie and collapsing on the couch.   
  
Sam came back with two bottles and handed one to Josh. They sipped their beer in silence for a few moments longer.  
  
"So are we still just waiting?" Sam asked. "We could call Leo, you know."  
  
"What can Leo do from the trade conference in India? Air Force One won't be back till Monday." Josh's resigned demeanor quickly changed as his cell phone began to ring. He scrambled to answer it. "Donna?" he cried, half in anguish and half in ecstasy.  
  
"Josh? This is Mike Casper," came the voice on the other end of the line. "Listen, I'm sorry about how we left things before."  
  
"It's okay, Mike, really. I didn't mean to put you in that situation..." Josh's voice trailed off.   
  
"I don't know how to tell you this, Josh."  
  
"You have news about Donna?"  
  
"Officially, I can't tell you anything. Unofficially, I will say that the van was tracked as far as West Virginia."  
  
"Thank you, Mike. I mean it," he said quickly before ending the call. He turned to Sam. "We're going to West Virginia."  
  
***  
  
Undisclosed Location  
  
Saturday, time unknown  
  
Donna was staring at the ceiling again. She had dozed on and off for a while before, which surprised her since she had no idea what time it was, but now she was wide awake. She tried not thinking about the chains that kept her fixed to the cot, about the chilling air that made her shiver, about the lingering ache she felt above her eye.   
  
Her body tensed up when she heard the muffled echo of footsteps coming from the hallway beyond the wall. There was an urgency in the sound that frightened her. Donna didn't want to think about what might happen if that door opened again. She wasn't sure how many ways she could say, "I don't know," before they believed her.   
  
Before she could relax her muscles, the steel door blew off in a deafening blast, filling the room with smoke and sending Donna to the floor with the cot awkwardly positioned behind her. Her eyes stung and her lungs quickly gasped for oxygen. She felt her wrists being freed from their metal restraints and found herself being pulled up from the ground and led out of the room by someone.  
  
She couldn't really hear except for the constant buzzing in her ears. And she could only make out blurry dark shapes in front of her. For some inane reason, this was the time her mind decided to act rationally: she shouldn't be following this person who was breaking her out of her cell; she shouldn't become a fugitive of the law.   
  
As they moved further down the corridor, her eyes started to clear somewhat. She stopped short though when she got a good look at who had just busted her out of her cell.   
  
Standing in front of her was a woman with brown hair down to her shoulders. Her face was obscured by protective goggles, but from what Donna could tell, they seemed to be close in age. She was decked out in black cargo pants and a dark jacket and hanging from her side was a large automatic rifle.   
  
The stranger motioned for her to follow through an open grating in the wall. Donna froze in a moment of indecision before she complied. She used to have such a simple life, she thought.  
  
o  
  
***  
  
tbc... 


	5. Los Angeles, California

***  
  
Chapter 5  
  
***  
  
Los Angeles, California  
  
Saturday, 7:04 PM PST  
  
The picture from the television was the only illumination in the darkened room, and the volume was so low it made the passing conversation on screen inaudible. The person sitting in front of it stared blankly at the picture flickering by. He didn't care about the program that was on - he never watched TV anyway - but at the very least it was something to distract him, however trivial. He had only one thought repeating in his brain. Why hadn't he been called yet?  
  
As though through sheer force of will, his cell phone, lying abandoned on the coffee table, began to ring. He answered it before it could sound again, "Jack Bristow."  
  
"It's Vaughn, checking in."  
  
"Agent Vaughn, you were supposed to call me the moment Sydney was secure in the safe house."  
  
"I realize that, sir, but there's been a development."  
  
"What kind of development?"   
  
"Sydney decided to take matters into her own hands, so to speak."  
  
  
  
"What are you talking about? Are you with my daughter?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then where is she?"  
  
"As far as I know somewhere in West Virginia. The thing is, though, she was supposed to check in more than an hour ago but she hasn't been answering her phone. I don't know where she is."  
  
***  
  
Highway 77  
  
Saturday, 10:36 PM EST  
  
The two figures drove silently past a rundown roadside motel whose neon sign flashed 'no vacancies' every few seconds. The single car in the parking lot would seem to say otherwise.   
  
"We're lost," Josh declared.   
  
"We're not lost."  
  
"Where are we then?" Josh asked, glaring over at Sam in the passenger seat.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"That means we're lost."  
  
"No," Sam insisted. "We're following the map. Look, there's a sign," Sam paused to read. "'Now entering Ohio.'"   
  
Josh ripped the map out of Sam's hands before repeating, "We're lost."  
  
"Okay, so maybe we are. But how can we be lost if we don't even know where the hell we're going?" Sam countered.   
  
***  
  
Webster Springs, West Virginia  
  
Saturday, 11:48 PM EST  
  
The walls of the motel room were colored a dingy yellow. The daisy-print wallpaper was peeling away in most spots, and the threadbare carpet revealed floorboards that creaked every time someone moved. Sydney surveyed all this and sighed; she'd been in worse rooms.  
  
She turned her attention back to the map that was sprawled out on the bed. She was sure they hadn't been followed here, especially after her zigzag driving through the woods for the last few hours. Right now, Sydney's main concerns were finding the nearest safe house (there didn't seem to be too many of them in West Virginia) and trying to explain all this to the frightened woman who had locked herself inside the bathroom.  
  
Sydney was ready when she heard the bathroom door open. The person that emerged held a towel in one hand, which she used to dab her bloodshot eyes; the other hand, Sydney noticed, was shaking.  
  
"How are your eyes?" she asked, standing up.  
  
"A little better, I think," the other woman replied slowly.   
  
"Do you want to seat down?"  
  
"I want to know what the hell is going on here!" the woman exploded with a rage Sydney wasn't expecting.   
  
"Look, I know this all seems overwhelming right now, Donna --"  
  
"How do you know my name? Who are you?"  
  
"My name is Sydney Bristow. I work for the CIA." Before continuing, she noticed the confusion that crossed Donna's face. "The reason you were arrested - the reason why you think you were arrested - is because of me."  
  
"If you work for the CIA, then why did you just break me out of federal custody?"   
  
"Okay, first of all, you weren't in federal custody. They just wanted you to believe that so you wouldn't resist."   
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Maybe I should just start from the beginning," Sydney said.   
  
"I would appreciate that." Donna sat down on the bed opposite Sydney as she spoke.  
  
"Three years ago - okay, maybe I should go back farther - nine years ago, I was recruited out of college by what I was told was a secret branch of the CIA called SD-6. I went from studying in the library to going on undercover missions. I figured I was going to save the world. In actuality, I was working for the very people I thought I was fighting against." Sydney paused, seeing Donna's reaction. "What?"  
  
"Nothing," she said in a hushed tone. "I didn't think stuff like this really happened."  
  
"I know. It's...My fiancé, Danny, had trouble with the truth, too. When the head of SD-6 found out that Danny knew my secret, he had Danny killed. Shot. I found him...in our apartment."  
  
Sydney could tell that Donna's silence was out of respect. She almost thought she detected a moment of mutual understanding on the other woman's part.  
  
"That's when I found out SD-6 wasn't a black-ops division of the CIA. That's also when I decided to join the real CIA as a double agent. Now I'm committed to bringing down SD-6."  
  
"Why are you telling me all this?"  
  
"Before I learned the truth about SD-6, I traveled the globe going on missions. Thinking back on it now, I probably shouldn't be proud about a lot of the things I did. One thing in particular..."  
  
***  
  
Three years earlier  
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Thursday, 5:32 AM EST  
  
Sydney released her hands from the steering wheel as she finished parking the van and picked up a Styrofoam cup of coffee. She had a perfect view of the brownstone across the street. She kept her eyes keenly glued to the front door and settled down into the early morning quiet that still remained on the street.   
  
"Anything yet?" called a voice from the back of the van. Her partner, Marcus Dixon, was just sitting down in front of a panel of security monitors that covered the block in every direction. In his hand, he held two thick folders he had been studying since they had gotten on the plane in Los Angeles.   
  
"Nothing," Sydney replied. "The recon team said her schedule's the most unpredictable they've seen. All they could pin down is that she leaves her apartment sometime between 5:30 and 6 each morning during the week. How's the reading coming?"   
  
"I'm impressed with this guy. Both of them, actually. I just hope all this research pays off and I can think of enough things to say to keep them occupied." His tone shifted quickly when he spotted something on one of the monitors. "We've got movement."  
  
Sydney quickly turned to watch their target walking through the door on the right. "Thought it'd be the gray one," she said quietly, reflecting on the file she had been studying. She got up to join Dixon in the back who was already holding up a gray turtleneck that exactly matched the one the woman across the street was wearing.   
  
"I'll leave you to change," he said, eyeing the blonde wig and makeup lying on the make shift vanity on the opposite wall of the van. He gave Sydney a quick smile before switching places and closing the dividing curtain.  
  
Hours later, Sydney and Dixon were being waved through White House security with their visitor badges. Sydney smiled to herself at the thought of how easy it was just getting into the West Wing. Marshall, SD-6's tech guy, had no trouble whipping up a pair of fake IDs to match their aliases.  
  
They were greeted in the lobby by a smiling blonde woman. "Mr. Breckenridge?" she asked, extending her hand to Dixon. "I'm Donna Moss, Josh Lyman's assistant. I spoke with someone from your office."  
  
"That would be Janine," Dixon said, bringing Sydney forward.  
  
"Nice to meet you," Donna replied, taking Sydney's hand as well. As their hands touched, Sydney felt a small spark of regret, knowing she was about to set this woman up. She pushed the sensation out of her mind though as she focused on Donna who continued to speak.  
  
"If you'll just wait here a moment." She disappeared behind two swinging glass doors.  
  
Sydney watched her go, relieved that even though she had matched her outfit to coincide perfectly with Donna's, she had made enough variations with her wig, a large necklace, a white sweater, and wire-rimmed glasses for this initial meeting.  
  
Before she could even say a word to Dixon seated across from her, Donna was back, ready to bring Dixon to meet with the Deputy Chief of Staff. Sydney took this moment to drop her oversized purse, spilling its contents all over the floor. Donna was instantly at Sydney's side helping to pick up the scattered papers and didn't feel a thing as Sydney swiped Donna's keycard from around her neck and put both the card and the cord into her own pocket.   
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Sydney moaned, taking a stack of files from Donna. "Don't know how that happened."  
  
"No problem," Donna replied, standing up.  
  
"If I could just be a bother for one more minute, which way is the ladies' room?" Sydney asked meekly.  
  
Donna motioned for Sydney and Dixon to follow her through the glass doors. She pointed Sydney toward a hallway past some desks in the far corner of the room and brought Dixon to an open doorway. As Sydney made her way through the bullpen, she could hear Donna behind her, "Mr. Breckenridge?"  
  
After a quick change in one of the bathroom stalls, Sydney emerged looking even more like Donna than she expected. More than a few people nodded in her direction as she found her way down a second hallway. With the help of Donna's security card, Sydney was inside the server room seconds before someone came down the hall. She overrode the encryption code and located the right file with ease, thanks to another of Marshall's useful gadgets (a compact with a hidden console beneath the powder). In another instant, the file was downloading onto a disc that fit right into the space behind the mirror. She placed the compact into her pocket and was back outside heading toward the bathroom again to retrieve her bag.  
  
On her way back to the lobby, now resembling Janine more than Donna, Sydney swept past Donna sitting at her desk, but Donna was too busy scribbling down a phone message to notice. Sydney took her previous seat in one of the brown leather chairs that flanked either side of the security desk in the Northwest lobby. She made an exaggerated motion of picking up a pencil she had purposely dropped in order to pull out Donna's badge.  
  
"Excuse me," Sydney called, flagging down a passing guard. "This was on the floor." She handed over Donna's ID card with a smile. Now all she had to do, she thought, was wait for Dixon.  
  
***  
  
Present day  
  
Webster Springs, West Virginia  
  
Sunday, 12:02 AM EST  
  
"That was you?" Donna asked, staring at Sydney in disbelief.   
  
Sydney took a breath before she answered. "Yeah, that was me. I know this all sounds strange, but it's the truth."  
  
"I believe you," Donna said quietly, remembering. "There are some things I still don't understand. Like what did you mean before when you said I wasn't in federal custody?"  
  
"You were being held by a group known as the Triad. Until this point, I thought they only dealt internationally, but the nature of what I stole from the White House seems to have gotten their attention."  
  
"What did you take?"  
  
"A list of employees who were possible security threats. That's the kind of information that could be very valuable to foreign intelligence agencies looking for recruits."  
  
"So that's what they kept asking me about," Donna said, more to herself than to Sydney. "Then I'm not in trouble with the US government?"  
  
"No, not really," Sydney replied. "I'm pretty sure the FBI was planning on arresting me last night. But the Triad still seems to think you know the whereabouts of the file. As far as I know, the security footage from three years ago was lost until recently. That was one of the reasons it's taken so long for anyone to act on this."  
  
"What happens now?" Donna asked.  
  
"Right now, I'm going to go see what's in that vending machine outside. I'm sure you must be starving." She gave Donna a slight smile before leaving the room.   
  
Donna took a good look around. She wasn't quite sure what to make of everything she had just been told. Despite everything Sydney had just said, Donna started to calm down a little. If she hadn't done anything wrong, there was no reason why she couldn't go home soon.   
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a cell phone lying on the table among the rest of Sydney's things. Without thinking, Donna picked it up and dialed Josh's number. Instead of hearing the expectant ring, she heard only a string of clicking noises. "Dammit," she mumbled.  
  
"It won't work."  
  
Donna spun around to find Sydney standing in the doorway holding a bag of pretzels and a can of soda. Not knowing why she felt guilty, Donna lowered the phone.   
  
"I didn't - I wasn't -I just wanted to let Josh know where I was," she managed to say.  
  
"Is he your boyfriend?"  
  
"No!" Donna said quickly, feeling her cheeks begin to blush. "He's just my boss." Her eyes grew distant for a moment. "Sorry," she added, handing over the phone.  
  
"It's okay," Sydney said. "The phone's designed to only receive incoming calls. So our position can't be traced."  
  
Donna wasn't sure what to say. The enormity of this entire situation was slowing sinking in. "What are you saying? When am I going home?"  
  
"Donna, I don't know how to tell you this. You can't go home."  
  
o  
  
***  
  
tbc... 


	6. Highway 79

***  
  
Chapter 6  
  
***  
  
Highway 79  
  
Sunday, 12:22 AM EST  
  
"This is insane," Josh muttered.  
  
"Yes, it is," Sam agreed.   
  
"I mean, what was I thinking? Looking for Donna somewhere in West Virginia. It's ridiculous, that's what it is."  
  
"Yes, it is," Sam repeated.   
  
"You're not being much help over there," Josh said, looking into the car from his position outside pumping gas.   
  
"What do you want me to say? 'How is it possible that after eight hours of driving you still haven't managed to pinpoint Donna's exact position?' You're only human, Josh. No one's expecting you to find Donna."  
  
Josh mumbled something under his breath that sound remarkably like, "I should though. I should be able to."  
  
Just then the dull quietness that surrounded the service station was interrupted by a ringing cell phone.  
  
"That you or me?" Josh asked.  
  
"You," Sam replied, tossing the phone through the open window.  
  
"Josh Lyman."  
  
"Josh, it's Mike Casper again. I hope I didn't wake you."  
  
Josh motioned to Sam who quickly got out of the car. "No, I'm up. Do you have any news?"  
  
"Sort of. Did you ever meet with a guy named Jeff Breckenridge?"  
  
"Yes," Josh shouted excitedly. "Yes, this is where everything started. He's dead, right?"  
  
"We think so."  
  
"You think so? What does that mean?"  
  
"I'm not really at liberty to say - "  
  
"Cut the crap, Mike," Josh interjected. "Have you found Donna?"  
  
"No." Josh could feel his lungs deflating. "But we have reason to believe - that is to say, we think it's possible that - Josh, it's very likely that Donna may be working for an enemy of the United States."  
  
***  
  
Webster Springs, West Virginia  
  
Sunday, 12:37 AM EST  
  
"I don't understand," Donna repeated for the third time. She had collapsed onto the bed in a semi-state of shock. She hadn't experienced a feeling like this in quite some time.  
  
"It's too risky," Sydney said, who was failing miserably in her attempts to comfort Donna. "The Triad may very well have already put a hit out on you since your escape. If you won't tell them what they want to know, they're not going to want you to tell anyone else."  
  
"But I don't know anything!" Donna cried. "I'm just an assistant who works in the White House. They don't give me secret launch codes or fill me in on the location of the underground bunkers. This whole thing has got nothing to do with me."  
  
"I know this all seems unfair," Sydney tried to say.  
  
"Unfair? From what I can tell, I'm in this mess in the first place because of you! All I want to do is go home."  
  
Sydney didn't respond. She was fixed to the spot, but the moment a car's headlights passed through the windows, she had her gun in her hand and stood ready next to the door. After what must have been at least a full minute of complete silence, Sydney relaxed her grip.  
  
"I understand what you're going through right now. All you want to do is go back to your normal life. And I want to give you that."   
  
Donna studied her carefully. There was a sadness in Sydney's voice that Donna hadn't noticed before.   
  
"Okay," Donna whispered, unsure of what else to say.   
  
"To do this - to get you home - we're going to have to get the Triad off your trail."  
  
"And how do we do that?" Donna asked, skeptically.  
  
"We improvise," Sydney replied with a sudden gleam in her eyes.  
  
***  
  
Highway 81  
  
Sunday, 1:23 AM EST  
  
"Don't say it," Josh said.  
  
"I wasn't going to," Sam replied back. He was now the one in the driver's seat. They had given up driving through West Virginia and were now finding their way back to D.C. Josh, from his reclining position in the other seat, was speaking with his eyes closed.   
  
"You were."  
  
"I really wasn't."  
  
"You want to say it," Josh offered.  
  
"I don't have to."  
  
"Oh, just say it," Josh moaned, giving in and sitting up.  
  
"Okay, first, please bear in mind that I've been up for the past forty-six hours - "  
  
"You didn't sleep last night?" Josh asked, concerned.  
  
"It's fine. I'm fine. Anyway, bear that in mind and hear me out...what if Donna is a spy?"  
  
"I told you not to say!" Josh cried.  
  
"You just said I could!"  
  
"She's not a spy, Sam. How can you even - she's not a spy, okay?"   
  
"Okay. I'm just saying - and again this is the sleep deprivation talking - think about it...how much do you really know about Donna?"  
  
"What? What are you talking about?"   
  
"C'mon, an intelligent woman like that drops out of college to support her loser boyfriend? If that doesn't scream cover story then I don't know what does. And have you ever met any of her family? In all the time you've known her, has she ever once gone home to Wisconsin for a visit?"  
  
"Sam, I can't believe I'm hearing this!"  
  
"Josh, are you listening to me? I'm joking."  
  
Josh stared at him with a look of loathing. "That is not funny."  
  
"I'm sorry," Sam said quickly. "I don't know, I thought I'd lighten the mood or something. Mike did say she might not even be who they're looking for."  
  
"Yeah, I still don't get that. How could they not know?"  
  
"Beats me. But then again, not much of what's happened today has made sense. We're here," Sam added, double-parking the car on the dark street.  
  
Josh, who hadn't realized how close they were to Sam's townhouse, made a quick effort to exit the car as Sam did the same.  
  
Walking a few steps toward the curbs, Sam stopped. "I-I really am sorry about what I said just now."  
  
"Don't be," Josh said with a slight grin that had been absent from his face for the last few hours. "It is kind of odd how she never goes home."  
  
"Call me if you need anything."  
  
With a nod, Josh climbed back into the car and, on instinct, drove off toward Donna's apartment. He knew he should go home, knew he should try to get at least some sleep, but Josh had a feeling that sleep would not find him tonight.  
  
***  
  
Webster Springs, West Virginia  
  
Sunday, 2:11 AM EST  
  
"You're sure this is going to wash out?" Donna pleaded, her head bent over the side of the tub.  
  
"Yeah. It only takes a couple of weeks," Sydney replied as she finished pouring out the contents of the small plastic bottle into Donna's hair.  
  
"And you've done this before? Dye your hair and evade capture from the bad guys?"  
  
"On occasion, yes. Although I haven't had to dye mine in a while now. Wigs work so much better. Which reminds me," Sydney said, getting up and walking into the bedroom. "I should probably brush some of them out."  
  
"Wait, you brought wigs with you?" Donna cried from the other room. "Were you planning on doing this all along?"  
  
"Well, no. Vaughn actually threw together a bag - just in case."  
  
"Then why are we dying my hair?"   
  
"All the wigs are blonde."  
  
Donna's next question was cut off by Sydney's cell phone. From her position crouched between the toilet and the tub, Donna couldn't make out much of the conversation. She was relieved when Sydney came back into the bathroom.  
  
"That was Vaughn. I told him about the plan. He's agreed to meet us in two hours."  
  
"Um, who's Vaughn?" Donna asked hesitantly.   
  
"Sorry," Sydney began, her cheeks blushing. "Vaughn's my handler - my CIA handler. I go to him for my counter-missions and when I have intel on SD-6."  
  
"And?" Donna prompted, smiling.  
  
"And...when I need to talk about...well, anything," Sydney said with a shrug.  
  
Donna decided not to pay any attention to the sudden sparkle in Sydney's voice. "And he's the only one who knows you're a double agent?"  
  
"Not the only one, no. There are some high-ranking CIA officers. And my dad."  
  
"Your dad?"   
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Not only does he know you're a spy, but he also knows you're a double agent? Isn't that, I don't know, dangerous or something?"   
  
"He's a double agent, too."  
  
Bewildered, Donna stared at Sydney. A different sort of thought entered her mind. "Is it okay that I'm asking all these questions? And that you're telling me all this? Isn't it all supposed to be top secret? You're not going to have to kill me, right?"  
  
Sydney stifled a small laugh. "After everything you've been through, you deserve to know whatever you want to know. I think we can take that stuff out now," she said, motioning toward the gunk in Donna's hair.  
  
Twenty minutes later, Donna could only gape at her reflection in the mirror. The transformation had been absolute. Donna's blonde locks were gone, replaced now with dark brown hair and auburn highlights.   
  
"My god," Donna groaned softly.  
  
"What? Too dark?" Sydney asked.  
  
"No, it's not that," she replied, letting her fingers run through the side of her hair. "It's just...it's just, with this color...this is Amy's color."  
  
"Who's Amy?"  
  
"My boss' ex-girlfriend."  
  
"Oh. Well, maybe we can cut it a little."  
  
As Sydney turned to retrieve her bag from one of the beds, a hail of gunfire erupted through the window. The glass instantly shattered, but Donna was too terrified to notice. Nor could she hear Sydney's shouted orders to get down. Before she could move, she felt Sydney pulling her to the floor, and, for the second time that night, Donna was left with little other choice than to follow Sydney outside and into the darkness.   
  
o  
  
***  
  
tbc... 


	7. Washington, DC

***  
  
Chapter 7   
  
***  
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Sunday, 2:35 AM EST  
  
Josh tried to rub the tiredness out of his eyes as he looked out onto Donna's street. There hadn't been much movement for the last fifteen minutes with the exception of a few cars, so Josh didn't have much to distract him from the constant gaze he directed toward Donna's front door.  
  
In the next instant, Josh stared wide-eyed as he watched Donna casually stroll around the corner and head toward her building. But with a quick flip of her hair, Donna disappeared and instead a stranger stood on the sidewalk and lit up a cigarette. Josh blinked. A moment ago, he was almost positive that was Donna walking toward him. Maybe he did need some sleep after all, he thought.   
  
  
  
***  
  
Highway 15  
  
Sunday, 2:44 AM EST  
  
"What the hell is going on?" a frightened Donna found herself yelling from her position as she watched Sydney speed away from the motel.  
  
"The Triad must have found us," Sydney replied in a surprisingly calm tone.  
  
"But where are we going?"  
  
"Haven't figured that out yet."  
  
Donna gave up trying to resist taking a look in the rearview mirror. Sure enough, the blinding headlights and the distinct outline of a SUV barreled toward them.   
  
"Hang on!" Sydney cried, sending Donna to clutch the dashboard with both hands as Sydney swerved off the road and headed into the trees.  
  
"What are you doing? There's no road here!"   
  
Donna watched in horror as Sydney maneuvered the car in and out of the way of trees. Wayward branches struck the windshield, and the tires spat out mud as they journeyed deeper into the woods.  
  
"I need you to reach under your seat and take out the red box," Sydney said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The red box under your seat. Take it out and open it."  
  
Donna pushed aside the bag Sydney had dropped on the floor when they dived into the car before, found the box under a blanket, and opened it to find what looked like three oversized sticks of dynamite. Donna raised her eyebrows at the sight of them.  
  
  
  
"Okay, now what you're gonna do is roll down your window and when you're ready, take one of them, twist off the top, and then throw it outside at the car behind us."  
  
"Are you crazy? I'll never be able to hit that car!"  
  
"You don't have to hit the car," Sydney reassured her. "It just has to be in the general area. And as long as one of them goes off behind us, it should work."   
  
At that moment, a bullet ricocheted off the side mirror on the passenger side. More followed, but thanks to the uncertain terrain they were driving over, not many of the bullets hit the car. Donna sat frozen in her place while Sydney made a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding a collision with the trunk of a large oak.   
  
Donna let out a small gasp. "I still don't think -"  
  
"Donna, you have to trust me." Sydney's tone was becoming increasingly more urgent. "If we're going to lose them, I need your help."  
  
Donna took a deep breath and opened her window. Shaking off every feeling of doubt, she pulled off the tip of the first stick and tossed it outside. A bright explosion quickly followed, and the car behind them violently veered off course.   
  
"Okay, that should give us a few minutes," Sydney said with a small smile. Donna couldn't help but feel a little bit proud of herself. Within a few moments, they had cleared the trees and now found themselves traveling along a dirt road.  
  
"We should be able to follow this until we get to a main road."  
  
"So we're safe?" Donna was almost afraid to ask.  
  
"For now. But don't think they'll just give up on us. We still have to get them off your trail. How you holding up?"  
  
"Well, I'm being chased by men with guns who think I'm a spy. So I guess, under the circumstances, I'm about as good as can be expected."  
  
***   
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Sunday, 3:25 AM EST  
  
Josh jerked awake at the sound of a car backfiring down the street. For a moment, he could swear he heard police and ambulance sirens mixed with a string quartet coming from every direction and felt his chest tightening with every intake of air.   
  
It took him a full fifteen seconds to realize that he was sitting in his car parked outside of Donna's apartment. He couldn't seem to catch his breath.  
  
He hadn't had a flashback to the night when he'd been shot for quite some time now. Usually, he would fight the urge to call Donna when one of them occurred before giving in, but it was becoming increasingly clear to him that calling Donna would not be an option.   
  
***  
  
Highway 79  
  
Sunday, 3:52 AM EST  
  
"Could we go over the plan one more time?" Donna inquired, trying to hide the hint of skepticism in her voice.   
  
"You're gonna be fine," Sydney replied, her eyes steady on the road before her. "You have nothing to worry about."  
  
"Well, that's good to hear," Donna said with fake enthusiasm. "And you're sure they're going to go for this?"  
  
"It's our best shot. We've been driving long enough that the Triad will think we've split up by now."   
  
"I just hope this works." Tucking a loose strand of her new dark hair back under the blonde wig she was now wearing, Donna muttered, "This is just too weird."  
  
"Welcome to my world," Sydney said cheerfully. "You've got the potential, you know. If you ever thought of changing careers," she added with a shrug.  
  
"Really? You think?" Donna felt her cheeks blushing with modesty.   
  
"Absolutely. I mean, the way you've dealt with all of this, it's like you're an old pro."  
  
"Speaking of which, I was wondering...Is the FBI still after you?"  
  
"Probably," Sydney said. "I haven't really been thinking about that."  
  
"But they wouldn't be after you if the information you stole was returned, right?" Donna asked.  
  
"I guess. But I have no way of doing that. Those files are somewhere on the SD-6 server back in LA."  
  
"What about your father?"  
  
"What about him?"  
  
"You said he was a spy, too. Couldn't he, you know, somehow delete the files from SD-6's computers and then send the real thing to the FBI?"  
  
"Donna, that's brilliant. But you're going to have to tell Vaughn. I can't afford the signal from my other phone being picked up. You remember what you're supposed to ask him?"  
  
"'Do you have a quarter I could borrow?'" Donna recited.  
  
"And then he'll say he only has a dime. He should be positioned at the payphone so he'll be easy enough to spot."  
  
"Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, it's asking an awful lot of you."  
  
"I owe you this, Donna. You were right what you said before about none of this being fair. If I can make this any easier for you, I'm going to do it. Besides," she added with slight smirk, "we have to get you back to that boss of yours."   
  
Before Donna could respond, Sydney pulled off the highway and into the nearly deserted lot of a roadside diner. Parking in the most obvious spot possible in front of the entrance, Sydney turned off the ignition and reached for her bag. "Here goes."  
  
They stepped out into the coolness of the early morning and headed inside. At the soft ding of the bell above the door, the few people scattered at booths and tables barely registered the duo's presence as they entered.  
  
"Two coffees, please," Sydney said to the waitress behind the counter as they each sat on a stool. She lowered her voice as she turned to Donna. "I don't see Vaughn anywhere yet. And there are more people here than I expected."  
  
"Is that good or bad?"  
  
"Depends. When those men came to your apartment, did they make a lot of noise?"  
  
"No, they were in and out so fast I didn't even know what was going on."  
  
"That could work for us then. They probably won't want to draw too much attention to themselves." Sydney stopped talking when the waitress returned with the coffee pot. Donna, taking a moment to savor the aroma of the coffee before having a sip, decided coffee had never tasted so good.  
  
"You girls want anything else?" the waitress asked through a yawn.  
  
"Where's your bathroom please?" Sydney replied sweetly.  
  
"Around that corner and to your right," the waitress answered before returning to the kitchen.  
  
"Okay, it's only a matter of minutes before the Triad catches up with us and spots the car out front. I don't think they'll risk coming in here with all these people around. They'll wait until you leave. I'll see you in the bathroom," Sydney said, standing up and disappearing behind the corner.  
  
Donna sat staring straight in front of her. She wanted very much to turn around and check the parking lot for new cars. Her entire body froze when she heard the bell above the door. She stole a quick glance behind her and breathed a sigh of relief. The man who had just walked in was young and attractive and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a hockey team's logo on the front. Donna was pretty sure that members of the Triad didn't wear jeans when they were on a mission. She turned again to see where the man sat down when she saw a SUV's headlights turn off in the parking lot.   
  
Taking a quick gulp of her coffee and throwing down some money on the counter, Donna composed herself enough to stand and head down the corridor to the ladies' room, making sure to smooth her wig's blonde locks as she went.  
  
Inside the bathroom, Donna walked right up to the occupied stall and knocked twice. Sydney opened the door, and it took Donna a second to recognize her now that Sydney was wearing a wig identical to the one Donna had on.  
  
"I knew all those wigs would come in handy," Sydney mused.  
  
"They're here," Donna said quickly, pulling off her wig. "In the parking lot."  
  
"Okay. Now I want you stay in here for at least ten minutes just to be on the safe side. They may have left someone to watch the diner though I really doubt anyone would recognize you with that hair." Sydney's smile was lost on Donna who was too nervous to reply.  
  
  
  
Sydney took a last glance in the mirror above the sink. "If this works, I'll probably never see you again."  
  
Donna was numb with this revelation. "I...I hadn't thought about that," she finally managed to get out. There was so much more that she wanted, that she needed to say to Sydney.   
  
"Don't worry. You'll be fine. Everything's gonna be okay."  
  
"Thank you," Donna uttered softly.  
  
"For what? Almost getting you killed? Dragging you across two states? Assuming your identity and getting you into this whole mess in the first place?"  
  
"Yeah," Donna said, smiling, "for all of that." She paused in a moment of uncertainty. "Good luck."  
  
"Thanks," Sydney replied. "You too."  
  
With a last look behind her, Sydney pushed open the door and disappeared from view. Donna quickly moved to occupy one of the stalls and stay out of sight. She waited for what she thought must have been ten minutes at the very least before releasing the lock.   
  
She jumped slightly when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, momentarily startled by her reflection. Splashing cool water on her face, Donna stared directly into the mirror and whispered, "I can do this."  
  
She opened the door halfway and was relieved to see the man in the hockey shirt talking on the payphone. She approached him and waited for him to hang up before speaking. "Do you have a quarter I could borrow?"  
  
The man studied Donna for a second before digging into his pants pocket and pulling out the coin. "Here ya go," he offered.  
  
"Um, excuse me?" Donna asked, puzzled.  
  
"You wanted a quarter."  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"And I'm giving you one," the man replied, giving her a sideways glance.  
  
"Uh, thank you," she called out as he walked away. Frantically she scanned the other patrons for any sign of this Michael Vaughn, whatever he looked like. There was not a single man sitting in the diner that could have fit the description that Sydney had given her.   
  
Donna leaned over the phone at this new predicament. Her hand had just rested on the handset when she realized what she could do. Instantly, she slid the quarter into the slot and punched in a phone number she knew better than her own.   
  
"C'mon, Josh," Donna breathed with each anxious ring. "C'mon."  
  
The pit of her stomach lurched when she heard the next sound coming from the other end of the line, a fast and familiar "Josh Lyman."   
  
Before Donna could respond, before she could even think, someone grabbed her shoulder. She dropped the phone, letting it hanging off its wire, and faced this new assailant. This time she was going to fight.  
  
"Miss Moss?" the man asked. He was tall and extremely good-looking and wearing a brown leather jacket. "I'm Michael Vaughn. Sorry I'm late. I've got a car waiting out back."  
  
She was about to protest, unsure if this really was Michael Vaughn. After everything that had happened to her in the last thirty hours she wasn't taking any chances. "How do I know you're who you say you are?"   
  
"That's perfectly reasonable," he said, reaching into an inside pocket for his ID. "Sydney told you me you weren't too wild about having your hair dyed. We really need to go."  
  
Satisfied, Donna allowed him to usher her into the kitchen and through an open door leading outside. Neither of them could hear the faint shouts coming from the payphone still dangling off its hook.   
  
"Donna? Donna, is that you? Donna, can you hear me?"  
  
o  
  
***  
  
tbc... 


	8. Washington, DC

***  
  
Chapter 8  
  
***  
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Sunday, 4:51 AM EST  
  
Josh sat clutching the phone in his right hand. There had been no one on the other end when it rang moments ago, or at least no one answered, but Josh was sure he heard some kind of conversation happening in the background. And he was sure the voice he heard was Donna's. But why hadn't she said anything, he wondered. There must be a reason, but what was it?  
  
Not even thinking about the time, due to the fact that he had slept a total of a ninety minutes in the last twenty-four hours, Josh pulled out a scrap of paper with Mike Casper's number jotted down on it and dialed his cell phone.  
  
"Mike, this is Josh Lyman. We need to talk."  
  
***  
  
Highway 66  
  
Sunday, 5:03 AM EST  
  
"Can I ask you a question?" Donna said, breaking the silence between herself and Michael Vaughn as they drove through the early morning.   
  
"Sure," he replied.  
  
"Where exactly are we going?"  
  
"I'm taking you home."  
  
"But," Donna began, "Sydney said I couldn't go home. What's changed?"  
  
"The reason you couldn't go home before was because we were afraid the Triad would kill you for escaping."  
  
"But they don't want to do that anymore?" Donna questioned with a raised eyebrow.   
  
"Probably not."  
  
"No offense, but 'probably not' isn't exactly the kind of reassurance I was hoping to hear from the CIA."  
  
"Sorry. If everything goes according to plan, this should all work out fine for you," Vaughn said as he glanced over to Donna in the passenger seat.  
  
"Should I try calling Sydney's father again?"  
  
"You know you really don't have to do that, Donna. I'm perfectly capable of dialing my phone."  
  
"Oh, I know. It's just this whole time I've felt basically useless. I've been either chained to a cot or driven around the back roads of West Virginia for the last day and a half. I'm not usually this...I don't know...inactive," she said with a shrug.  
  
"Go right ahead," Vaughn responded handing her the phone that lay on the middle seat.  
  
***  
  
Los Angeles, California  
  
Sunday, 2:05 PST  
  
As the elevator doors parted, Jack Bristow emerged into the white room and stood still while the room momentarily flashed red. He was down the corridor and in SD-6's server room without a single person seeing him, which wasn't surprising considering it was so late at night.  
  
He approached one of the monitors mounted onto a shelf and accessed the file he was looking for with relative ease. Overriding the encryption code was almost as easy, but getting around the other security features proved to be somewhat of a challenge for him.   
  
After five minutes, Jack stood facing a blinking screen, waiting for his prompt. Ejecting a thin disc that popped out of the side panel, he placed it inside the inside pocket of his suit jacket and quickly typed in the appropriate command on the keyboard. The words 'file deleted' appeared before vanishing. Jack adjusted his tie and made his way out of the room.   
  
As he walked through the bullpen of desks, he saw a single light coming from the direction of Arvin Sloane's office. Slightly startled, but in no way revealing as much, Jack headed toward the open door.  
  
"Jack, come in," said the cool and controlling voice coming from behind the desk.  
  
"You're here late," Jack declared stepping forward.  
  
"I could say the same for you," Sloane said as a small smile escaped his lips.  
  
"I was checking on a source's cover story. Something he said about the current political state of Micronesia didn't seat right with me."  
  
"I see," Sloane replied slowly. "Have you heard from Sydney lately?"  
  
"She's not due back until Monday afternoon."  
  
"Yes, but have you heard from her?"  
  
"No." Jack wasn't sure what Sloane was up to.   
  
Sloane exhaled deeply. "I was just wondering. It's such a dangerous business we're in, Jack. So unpredictable. I'd hate to see anything...unfortunate happen to Sydney."  
  
Jack nodded. "Well, I guess I'll see you Monday morning."  
  
"Yes. Good night, Jack."  
  
"Night." Before he turned to leave, Jack's eyes fell to a detailed map of West Virginia half hidden under some folders on the edge of Sloane's desk.   
  
"Is something wrong?" Sloane asked as Jack instantly averted his gaze.  
  
"No, nothing. Just my pager," he said, thinking fast. "Good night then." Jack was out the door in the next instant. On his way up the elevator, his phone began to ring. "Jack Bristow."  
  
***  
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Sunday, 5:24 AM EST  
  
Josh pushed open the glass door and entered the diner, scanning the other patrons. He quickly spotted Mike Casper sitting at a table by the window. Sliding into the booth, Josh didn't wait for any kind of greeting before launching into what he came there to say. "I want answers."  
  
"I understand that, Josh. You do realize I could lose my job just for agreeing to meet with you," Agent Casper replied.  
  
"But you're here," Josh said slowly.  
  
"Yes."   
  
"And you're going to answer my questions?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Okay then." Josh took a deep breath. "Where's Donna?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Who has her?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Well, you're just a wealth of information," Josh said, throwing up his arms.  
  
***  
  
Highway 66  
  
Sunday, 5:31 AM EST  
  
"So Sydney's dad's taken care of it?" Donna asked.   
  
"I guess so. He sounded kind of strange on the phone though. Though with Jack I never really can tell," Vaughn said with a shrug.  
  
"Is Sydney going to be okay? I mean, she just drove off with those guys following her."  
  
"I'll be the first to admit that when it comes to situations like this, Sydney knows how to take care of herself. She's going to be fine. Roadblocks were set up in the direction Sydney was heading so by now the men who were chasing you should be in custody. Sydney'll change cars and meet up with us in D.C. It's almost over for you."  
  
"Thanks, Vaughn."  
  
  
  
Vaughn laughed. "You know, you can call me Michael. Sydney won't, but you can."  
  
***  
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Sunday, 5:36 AM EST  
  
"So you don't know where Donna is and you don't know who has her. What do you know?"  
  
"We're pretty sure she's not an enemy of the United States," Agent Casper said.  
  
"Well, that's something."  
  
"Three years ago, you met with a man named Jeff Breckenridge. The thing is you didn't meet with Jeff Breckenridge and during the time in which you weren't meeting with him, his accomplice was busy stealing classified information." Agent Casper lowered his voice as a young family took over the booth behind them. "The accomplice, whoever she was, was able to gain access through the use of Donna's key card. The security footage shows a woman matching Donna's description entering the room."  
  
"It wasn't her, Mike. I swear to god, it wasn't her."  
  
"I'm inclined to believe you. We've got some reports through our CIA contacts as to who it might have been that day. Excuse me," he added as his cell phone began to ring.  
  
Josh let his gaze wander out to the street as the early morning traffic went by.  
  
Agent Casper's phone conversation came to an end quicker than Josh was expecting. "I've got good news."  
  
***  
  
Highway 66  
  
Sunday, 5:41 AM EST  
  
Donna sat tapping her knees. It was the only thing she could think to relieve her nervous energy. She had been stuck in cars, vans, and motel rooms for too long. Suddenly she noticed they were driving over a bridge. "Hey!"  
  
"Yeah?" Vaughn asked, turning toward her.  
  
  
  
"This is the Potomac," she exclaimed looking down at the water.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'm almost home."  
  
"Yeah."   
  
"This...I can't believe I'm almost there," Donna sighed.  
  
"I'd take you straight home, but I want to be sure everything worked out as planned. We're just going to wait until Sydney checks in. You hungry?"  
  
"Oh my god, yes. Since Friday night I've had three sips of coffee and a bag of pretzels."   
  
"I know a place on M. They make good omelets," Vaughn said smiling.  
  
"I think I know the one you're talking about. My boss and I order from there a lot."  
  
***  
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Sunday, 5:51 AM EST  
  
"Okay, the FBI's just received an email from an unknown sender with the file that was stolen from the White House computers attached," Agent Casper revealed.  
  
"So then Donna's off the hook?" Josh asked expectantly.  
  
"Almost. Take a look at this picture." Casper reached into his jacket and pulled out a black and white surveillance photo of what was obviously a West Wing corridor.   
  
Josh studied the blurry image in front of him of a woman with light hair, her face turned toward the camera about to enter a room. Josh wanted to shout with relief. "It's not her! That's not Donna!"  
  
"Okay, then. That's good enough for me."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, I will make it very clear to my superiors that Donna Moss is not the woman in this picture and is in no way affiliated with hostile nations."  
  
"And they'll believe you?"  
  
"Uh-huh." Casper returned the photo to his jacket.  
  
"Just like that?"  
  
"Just like that. I'll be in touch." They shook hands and Josh watched as Casper held open the door for a man and a brunette woman who were entering the diner before leaving himself. Josh was momentarily distracted at the sight of the woman who was watching Casper leave as well. Shaking off the bizarre thought he was having as exhaustion, he turned his attention to the menu in front of him. He might as well eat if he was there.  
  
"Josh."  
  
He froze. He could've sworn...he was almost sure...  
  
"Josh?"  
  
The voice was Donna's.  
  
o  
  
***  
  
tbc... 


	9. Washington, DC

***  
  
Chapter 9  
  
***   
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Sunday, 6:00 AM EST  
  
Josh's mind was racing with possibilities in the second it took him to turn around. How could Donna be calling his name? What was she doing in this diner? And now that he got a good look at her, why was her hair brown?  
  
"Donna?" His voice was so low he barely heard himself say her name. He was more confused now than when he first saw Jeff Breckenridge's obituary. This was Donna standing in front of him, but with the dark hair he practically didn't recognize her.   
  
"Josh, oh my god." She walked toward him and wrapped her arms around him in the next instant. Josh responded by holding her closer and longer than he had ever held her before.  
  
"Donna," he breathed, finally pulling away from her, "where the hell have you been?"  
  
"It's a long story." The man Donna had walked in with coughed loudly to gain their attention. "I'm sorry," she said, flustered, gesturing toward him. "Josh, this is - "  
  
"Mark Bauer. Nice to meet you," the man said, extending his hand. Josh was sure he saw a quizzical look pass across Donna's face, almost as if she wasn't expecting him to introduce himself that way. Whoever he was, Josh decided, he was too tall. And he smiled too much.  
  
"So where have you been this weekend?" Josh asked, holding his arms across his chest. "And what happened with those men in your apartment? And why did you change your hair?"   
  
"Those are all...valid questions," Donna said glancing back and forth between Josh and the other man. "With equally valid answers." She almost seemed to be begging this Mark person to answer the questions for her.   
  
"Miss Moss really isn't at liberty to answer any questions right now," Mark replied.  
  
"Not at liberty?" Josh repeated indignantly. "Look, pal, I don't know who you think you are -"  
  
"Josh," Donna pleaded.  
  
"Needless to say," Mark continued, "in the interest of national security, I think we should leave the subject at that."  
  
Josh wanted to say more, but decided to let it drop. There was something authoritative in this guy's tone that made Josh believe him. "Okay," he finally said.  
  
"Okay?" Donna asked puzzled. "You're okay with leaving it at that?"  
  
"Yeah," Josh nodded.   
  
"I have to go," Mark said. "It was good to see you, Donna."  
  
Donna smiled. "It was good to see you, too...Mark. Please thank Sydney again for me."  
  
"I will. Take care." Mark was out of the diner and walking up the street before she could respond.   
  
Turning to face Josh again, she sighed. "Josh..."  
  
"He's rather a pretty boy with his leather jacket and spiky hair, isn't he?" Josh mused as they walked back to the booth.  
  
"Josh!"  
  
***  
  
Arlington, Virginia  
  
Sunday, 8:47 AM EST  
  
Vaughn found an empty park bench in the shade. He checked his voicemail for the third time since parking the car, just in case he had missed the call. When someone sat down next to him a few minutes later, he didn't need to look to see who it was.  
  
"You're late," he said staring directly in front of him.  
  
"Sorry, getting around the road block took longer than I expected."  
  
"Donna said to say thank you again."  
  
Sydney turned the page of the newspaper she was pretending to read and smiled. "She get home okay?"  
  
"Yeah. Actually her boss ended up being at the same diner we stopped in."  
  
"Her boss, huh?" Sydney repeated, smiling again. "Did he seem happy to see her?"  
  
"Very. And I managed to convince her not to reveal anything so your cover should still be safe." He paused, breathing in the fresh air. "So, you know, you don't have to be back in LA until tomorrow."  
  
"That's right."  
  
"What do you want to do until then?"  
  
"Hmm...there is one thing," Sydney said slowly.  
  
"Yeah?" Vaughn hoped he didn't sound too expectant. "What is it?"  
  
"Well, I have always wanted to see Langley."  
  
"I'd hate to deny you the pleasure. I mean, you are CIA. And every CIA agent deserves to visit Langley. On the other hand, we do still have to maintain your cover."  
  
"What if I just took a peek? From the bushes?"   
  
***  
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Sunday, 8:21 PM EST  
  
Donna emerged from her bedroom, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. It felt so good to be home and clean and free from worry about armed men breaking down her door. She paused to study her reflection in the mirror. Sydney was right; her hair was already starting to lighten. With a few more washes, she'd be back to her own regular color in no time.  
  
She surprised herself when she jumped at the knock on her door. Her nerves must not have been as back to normal as she had hoped. Making sure to look through the peephole before she opened the door, she instantly relaxed at the sight of the person on the other side.  
  
Josh stood in the doorway. "You know your buzzer's still broken."  
  
"I thought they fixed that."  
  
"What kind of stories have you been telling your landlady about me?"  
  
"Stories, Josh? I only speak the truth."  
  
"Right," he said, closing the door behind him. "Look, we really didn't talk before about what happened."  
  
"That's 'cause we can't talk about what happened," she said.  
  
"I know, and I'm not going to ask you any questions, but I just...I need...you...you're all right, right?"  
  
Donna smiled. "Yeah."  
  
"These past two days have been..."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I wanted to say..."  
  
"You wanted to say how relieved you are to know I'll be coming into work on time tomorrow," Donna suggested.  
  
"That's not what I was going to say." Josh took a step closer to Donna.  
  
"It's not?"  
  
"No."   
  
This time Donna took a step closer. "What did you want to say?"  
  
"This." He leaned slowly in until their lips met in a soft, gentle kiss.   
  
Donna could barely breathe from the joy she was experiencing. She draped her arms around his neck as the kiss grew deeper, and Josh's hands found their way to the small of her back. Reluctantly, they each pulled back after a few more moments but stayed in the embrace. Donna didn't think she'd ever be able to form words again.   
  
Finally she managed to whisper, "Oh."  
  
"Yeah," Josh said back, his dimples widening with every moment.  
  
"You should say that more often."  
  
***  
  
the end 


End file.
